The Smart Diaries
by Alexis Rockford
Summary: Maxine Smart, twin daughter of Agents 86 and 99, shares her feelings on her father, school, and when she finds out her parents are spies! UPDATED 5/08/03 Sorry I took so long. My computer won't even run a word program ne more. Career Day at last!
1. Friday, October 4, 1985

Friday, October 4, 1985  
  
My dad is so strange. I mean, really. He and mom are rarely ever home together, but when they  
are, he calls her by a number. That's right; a number. Not a name, even though I'm sure she has a  
perfectly good one. Come to think of it, I have no idea what it is, but that's not unusual for a  
seventeen-year-old kid, right? Zack says that I worry too much, but what does he know? He's  
exactly the same age as me! Actually, he's a minute or so younger and he acts like five years  
younger. He is such a baby. I mean, get this, he still sleeps with a teddy bear. What a wuss!  
Brothers are not supposed to be like that. They're supposed to beat you up and tease all the time.  
Instead, he's always reading some adventure novel or comic. Yes, comic. He's a junior in high  
school for gosh sake! He ought to find a better hobby. I guess you can really tell that he and my  
dad are related. I think they should just shape up or ship out.  
  
Don't get me wrong, it's not that I hate my brother or father or anything. They just get on my  
nerves a lot, which is strange since my dad is never home. It just shows how annoying he is. And  
why oh why did I have to be named after him. That is so uncool. And the name isn't even pretty  
or anything.  
  
My mom, on the other hand, is about the best mom on the planet. She bakes cookies like  
nobody's business and she always listens to your problems. Of course, I never tell her what I  
really think of Dad. She'd have an epileptic fit or something. I mean, she is so head over heels in  
love with Dad that it's not even funny. It's like duh! Parents aren't supposed to be like that.  
Romance is saved for the youth. Parents are just supposed to tolerate each other and kiss every  
once in a while just so their kids don't think they're going to divorce. I mean, she actually has sex  
with him whenever he's around, which as I mentioned is hardly ever. How gross. I can't imagine  
anyone wanting to do that with my dad. He's such a loser. And why oh why is he never around?  
You wouldn't think a greeting card salesman would have so many business trips.  
  
Well, that's the state of my life so far. And of course, I'm in high school, which is so much a  
breeze that it bores me. My brother and I are both mega-geniuses or something. We must have  
gotten it from mom, cause it sure didn't come from dad. Of course, we are also classified as  
mega-dorks by everyone at school. My brother gets locked in his locker practically every other  
day. He usually falls asleep and misses half of his classes. Boy is he lucky that we share fifth  
period. When I notice he isn't there, I rush to his locker and let him out. He usually tumbles out  
and hits the floor because he's asleep. What a dweeb! Then we rush to class and politely explain  
to Mrs. Hooper why we are ten minutes late. How annoying.  
  
But I don't hate everything about my life. For one thing, we live in Washington, DC, which has to  
be about the coolest city in the country. There is so much to see and do, especially for nerds like  
my brother. And I so love the Smithsonian museums. I could live there and never be bored  
because they're always adding something new. My mom also takes us to the Capitol a lot so we  
can see Congress in session. I find that extremely boring, but it amuses my brother so I deal with  
it. My mom always sighs wistfully and wonders aloud if she should run for office. I think that  
would be a good thing. At least I'd find out what her name is. It would be posted all around town.  
Of course, we's have to move to some state we'd be representing during the campaign. Or at  
least my mother would. Zack and I would probably be in college or moved out already. And  
maybe Dad would show his face once in a while. Nah, he probably wouldn't even vote for her.  
  
I don't see why. My mom is so gorgeous that everyone would vote for her no matter what party  
she was affiliated with. She's got this thick dark hair the color of chocolate that she wears at in  
the most attractive style imaginable. She has incredibly long eyelashes (which I've inherited!) That  
set off her dark eyes beautifully. And this cute little smile that's totally to die for. I can see why  
Dad fell for her. Now what she saw in HIM is a completely different story. Rumor has it that he  
had to be tricked into proposing to her! Talk about a LOSER!!!!!  
  
Well, I really need to be heading to school. Mom is giving me this stern "get the heck off the  
computer" look. Yeah, we have a computer. We must be incredibly rich or something. Don't ask  
why we live in an apartment.  
  
Talk to yas later, Mr. Apple.  
  
Maxine Smart*  
  
Later, After School  
  
I can't believe my ill luck. We are going to have Career Day at school. And Mr. Slacker, the  
principal, has assigned MY FATHER as one of the speakers. He says that a greeting card  
salesman is a very interesting profession. There aren't any other parents with that job in our whole  
school and he wants as many different careers as possible. This means that I ACTUALLY have to  
TALK to Dad. What if he says no? I'm already the laughingstock of the entire school, I don't  
need my father to be ornery on top of it. Zak says not to sweat the small stuff. As if HE should  
know. HE'S not the one who has to talk to Dad. HE'S too busy on a stupid science fair project  
about cellular phones, whatever THOSE are. Zak says everyone will have one by the year 2000.  
Who cares what happens in fifteen years! I'll be 31 years old and married (I hope) by then! I'm  
more concerned about MY life NOW!  
  
Dad is coming by to spend some "quality family time" with us this weekend. He hasn't done that  
in like two years. But if course, as soon as I actually have to talk to him, he shows up. It figures.  
He must have ESP or something. Either that or *gasp* Mom told him about Career Day! She  
couldn't have! My own mother betrayed me? I have to ask her right now.  
  
Maxi  
  
  
*Max and 99's twin girl was never given a name in the series, but she is traditionally known as  
"Maxine"  
Her brother didn't have a name either until Get Smart '95 when he was identified as "Zachary  
Smart."  
  
A/N: What do you think? This idea just popped into my head on Friday and I had to write the  
story. I may be writing just from  
Maxine's POV, but then again, I may write diaries for each member of the Smart family. If you  
could share your   
opinions on this idea, that would be great. I'm trying to write a diary entry a day in this story so  
expect   
frequent updates. 


	2. After Dinner aka Max at the Ritz

Even Later, After Dinner  
  
Well, Mom didn't tell on me. She says that it's my job to build a personal relationship with Dad.  
As if! But none of that matters anyway. I am never, and I mean NEVER setting foot outside this  
house again. I am so embarrassed. What Dad did when we were out to eat tonight will go down  
in history as one of the most moronic feats ever performed.   
  
When Dad came home tonight, I thought I was prepared for the worst. Boy, was I ever wrong.  
This is what happened:  
  
6:14 Dad comes in the door and trips on the welcome mat. Mom is there and catches him before  
giving him one of the most grossly passionate kisses I've ever seen. It might've even been a  
Frenchie. Sick.  
  
6:15 Dad asks me how my day was at school Like he really cares or anything. I tell him it was  
perfectly fine. Mom gives me a Look, but I ignore her.  
  
6:16 Zak emerges from his bedroom (for like only the second voluntary time on his life. I wonder  
what he does in there?). HE trips over Mom and gives Dad a hug. Yeah . . .  
  
6:17 Dad suggests that we go out to eat. Mom says she'd rather cook for him, but Dad wins.  
What a jerk. Mom was just trying to be nice.  
  
6:18 We all pile in Mom's old 1968 Volkswagon bus thing. Dad secretly hates the vehicle (he has  
this weird aversion to all things German), but he's never said anything so as not to offend Mom.  
Real consistent. You didn't seem to care about her feelings when she offered to cook dinner.  
  
6:19 Dad realizes that neither of them have a set of keys. He returns to the house.  
  
6:20 Dad returns and informs us that he's locked himself out of the house. Good think Zack and I  
each have a house key in our pockets at all times.  
  
6:21 Dad goes back into the house.  
  
6:26 Dad returns and informs us that he can't find his keys anywhere. I suggest that we take the  
car that my brother and I share.  
  
6:27 Mom points out that the keys were in Dad's pocket all the time. Dad slaps his forehead and  
starts the car.  
  
6:28 The car dies. We all decide to take Zak's and my car. Duh! Like I suggested that two  
minutes ago!   
  
6:40 We arrive at this really ritzy restaurant. I think Mom and Dad used to date here once. That  
is, if they ever DID date to begin with.  
  
6:41: We enter the restaurant and are informed that there is a twenty minute wait. Mom and Dad  
say that's fine while exchanging remarkably sappy glances. Ugh. I can't believe she's STILL goo-  
goo over him after the ordeal of the past half hour. Sometimes I think he's brainwashed her.   
  
6:45 Dad gets tired of making cutesy faces at Mom, and starts telling really and I mean REALLY  
stupid jokes.  
  
Dad: So this guy goes to the doctor and says, "Help! I've just swallowed a chicken bone!" And  
the doctor says, "Oh dear, are you choking?" And the guy says, "No, I'm serious."  
Hahahahahahaha!  
  
Zak actually laughed, but I think he was just being polite. I just glared at him . I mean, who does  
Dad think he is, Ralph Malph? And in the middle of the Ritz, for crying out loud! Besides, that  
joke is so old. Right up there with "Why did the chicken cross the road?" God, he's so pathetic.  
  
7:10 After 25 minutes of obnoxious jokes, we are seated. Finally! They said twenty minutes and it  
ended up being 30. Dad flirts with the waitress. Honestly, if I were Mom, I would've divorced  
him years ago. But Mom just smiles super-sweetly and elbows him to stop.  
  
7:11 The waitress leaves and we begin to peruse (I love that word!) Our menus. Dad looks a little  
nervous about the prices.  
  
7:17 The waitress returns. Mom orders the fillet mignon, Dad orders lobster, Zak orders some  
other seafood thing, and I order turkey. So far, so good.  
  
7:18 Dad begins some insipid conversation about the stock market. It seems that ticker symbol  
CTRL is on the rise and KAOS is dropping rapidly. I sure hope we invested in CTRL, whatever  
that is. Maybe that's why we're so rich. And who in the heck named their ticker symbol KAOS?  
No wonder it's plummeting. I wouldn't invest in a company of that name.  
  
7:19 Mom says that his discussion is boring the children and gives him a significant glance, which  
is evidently lost on him. He says that we don't understand what they're talking about anyway.  
Duh! Which would be why we're bored!  
  
7:20 The conversation turns to cellular phones. *yawn* Dad says that cell phones have been  
around for years, they just looked . . . different. Mom glares at him again. What is with her? I  
guess she's in a bad mood because she didn't get to cook. Dad gets really silent and guilty-  
looking after this. See what happens when you don't listen to your wife?  
  
7:21 Zak and I become engaged in a heated discussion about our favorite tv show, The Avengers.  
Zak claims that Emma Peel was the greatest spy ever, but I vote for John Steed. He's so  
gentlemanly and polished, unlike Dad. And he was a REAL secret agent. Emma was only a  
"talented amateur," as TV Guide says. Our parents look amused. Good for them.  
  
7:43 Our food arrives. We all dig in. And THAT'S when the really bad thing happened. Dad tries  
to eat his lobster and somehow it slides off his plate and onto the floor. Right in front of everyone  
in the restaurant. I could've died on the spot. How could anyone not catch something as big as a  
lobster when it's sliding off their plate! And all dad can say is: "Sorry, about that, 99." Why does  
he always call mom by that name? Not to mention the fact that a gale of laughter erupted in the  
room. My face was so hot, I swore it was melting. Mom's cheeks are all red, too. She whispers  
something to Dad and then calls a waiter to clean up the mess. Dad decides to share Mom's  
dinner and not order another one. I mean, that lobster cost fifty bucks or something crazy. I half  
expected him to pick it up off the floor and eat it, but I'm glad he didn't. I seriously think I  
would've cracked under the strain.  
  
8:12 We leave the restaurant amid tactless remarks from fellow patrons. If I had known any of the  
people there, I probably would've committed suicide on the spot.  
  
Now that I'm sitting here in front of my computer and getting all my emotions out, I realize that it  
wasn't THAT bad. I guess it was kind of funny if you come to think about it. Or it would be if I  
didn't have to live with it for the rest of my life.  
  
Needless to say, I didn't quite get around to asking Dad about Career Day. (Duh!) I don't know  
if I can ever face him again without blowing my top. I think I'm going to legally change my name  
when I turn 18. I do not want to be associated with him in any way, shape or form. It could ruin  
any chance I have of a normal life.   
  
How does Jennifer Steed sound?  
  
The Person Formerly known as Maxine Smart  
  
A/N: If Max's exploits at the Ritz seem really corny, forgive me. I'm still trying to get his  
character down pat. The trouble with Max is that he's got to be intelligent and stupid at the same  
time, you know what I mean? It's way harder than it looks. I've also only seen like 20 GS  
episodes *gasp* so that may be part of the problem. Bear with me please! 


	3. Saturday, October 5, 1985

Early Morning, Saturday, October 5, 1985  
  
I woke up early this morning, even though it's the weekend. The Avengers is playing on channel 9  
in ten minutes, and I want to tape it. So far I have almost every Emma Peel and Tara King  
episode and now I'm working on the Cathy Gale ones. It's "Second Sight" today and it has this  
really good actor who played Fitch in the Emma episode "Dial a Deadly Number." If anyone is  
reading this diary (heaven forbid!) They probably won't know what in the world I'm talking  
about, just like I can't figure out Mom and Dad's stock market talk. Too bad. You gotta watch  
the Avengers and find out!  
  
Oh, darn. I just remembered Dad's little slip up last night. Make a mental note to avoid ever  
leaving the house again.  
  
Zak, Mom, and Dad are asleep still. It is pitch black outside still as it usually is at 7 am in  
October. The leaves are beautiful at this time of year, though the lack of trees in our  
neighborhood makes it difficult to tell. It was during autumn that Dad's old boss died. Now what  
was his name? CHIEF! Of course! Now I remember. He was always bungling his assignments on  
the job and apologizing to his boss, Chief. Chief of what? Cards? Oh, who cares. Anyway, he died  
a couple years ago, and Dad was really shook up. It appears that he was really close to Chief.  
Don't ask how someone can be friends with their boss. Of course, some people think it's  
impossible to be friends with their mother, and I know THAT to be untrue.   
  
Ooh! My tv show is going to start! Talk to you later!  
  
Jennif- Oh, what the heck.  
  
Maxine Smart  
An hour later  
What a confusing episode!  
  
Anywho, back to Chief. Evidently, he didn't die of natural causes. Rumor has it that he was . . .  
can you believe it? . . . killed! Who would bother to kill the Chief of the Pontiac Card Company?  
Beats me. And why did Dad mysteriously disappear for a month right after the funeral? It's at  
times like this that I wonder of their isn't more to Dad than meets the eye. Not that I think HE  
killed his boss. He spoke too warmly of Chief for that. But just the same, I can't help picturing  
him on a worldwide crusade to avenge the death of his friend . . . Gah, I watch too much  
television.  
  
Zak is awake, finally. He asks if I taped the episode, which, of course, I did. I don't know why I  
let him watch them though. He's asleep in bed snoring away on a Saturday morning while I'm up  
at 6 a.m. to tape the show. That's gratitude. And he's the fanatic for spy shows. I just watch it for  
Steed.  
  
Zak is wearing his glasses today. He wears contacts when he goes to school so he doesn't end up  
stuffed in his locker TWICE a day. His hair is all spiky and weird from sleeping. I don't know  
why he is so geeky looking. Mom, as I said, is absolutely beautiful, and Dad, though no Prince  
Charming, is what some would consider cute, though his beady eyes are way too close together.  
Even I have been considered a beauty, and I'm his fraternal twin! But poor Zak is just plain  
homely. His face has NERD written all over it. Sometimes, I really feel sorry for him. He would  
just tell me that I was wasting my energy.  
  
Zak is amazing. He doesn't seem to care that he looks that way. Either that, or he hasn't noticed.  
Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen him in front of the mirror. Wouldn't that be weird  
if he was one of those people with an identity problem because he had never seen his reflection?  
Creepy.   
  
Speaking of creepy, Halloween is coming! I am really excited about it. I think I'm going to go as  
(what else) John Steed. I could borrow Zak's suit coat, tie, dress socks, shoes and one of his nice  
white shirts (we are practically the same size) and find out if Dad has a bowler. He HAS to, I  
mean with all of these business meetings he's been to you can't expect me to believe he  
DOESN'T have a bowler! Mom has a black 'brolly with a curved wooden handle, and I have  
some black slacks that will work perfectly. Then, I can tuck my long hair under the hat and  
TADA! Instant Steed! Just thinking about it is exciting. Too bad Zak can't be Emma. *snickers* I  
don't think Mom will allow him to cross-dress.  
  
Well, Mom and Dad are up, so I better get off.  
  
Maxi Steed (ok, maybe I'll just get rid of my surname)  
Saturday Evening  
  
We're staying at home and eating Mom's home cooking tonight! *cheers* After last night's  
fiasco, Dad would be a total jerk not to let Mom cook for him. Of course, he IS a total jerk, but  
hey! Most of the day I was reading this book I was assigned for school called War and Peace. It  
is really long, like a thousand pages. So by the time Mom started cooking, I was ready for a  
break.   
  
While Mom was fixing supper and Zak was working on his science project, I decided to approach  
Dad on the subject of Career Day. He was sitting in the living room, watching one of my  
Avengers tapes. He does that all the time. Dad's really just like a big kid sometimes.  
  
Emma Peel was on the screen about to be sliced in half by this giant sawblade. Dad was glued to  
the set, leaning forward precariously in his seat when I entered. "Dad," I said, switching the tv  
off. "I need to talk to you."  
  
"Hey!" he whined. "Now I'll never know what happened to Mrs. Peel." He began to pout.  
  
"Dad!" I said, bringing him back to reality.  
  
He blinked for a couple minutes before replying, "Yeah, what is it sweety?"  
  
"The principal at my school was wondering if, uh . . ." I paused to twirl some of my brunette hair  
around my fingers. Why is it always so difficult for me to talk to him? I mean, he is my DAD for  
Pete's sake.  
  
Dad smiled kindly at me. I think I reminded him of Mom as I stood there. I DO look a lot like her  
and we both have this silly habit of playing with our hair, though Mom only does it when she's  
playing cutesy with him. "Yes??" he asked in the softest voice I'd ever heard him use.  
  
" . . . you could talk about your job at the greeting card company for Career Day," I managed to  
blurt out.  
  
Dad looked like I had just struck him across the face. What was wrong? Was the thought of going  
to your children's school and giving a short little speech about your profession such a terrible  
prospect? My eyes must have betrayed my disappointment, for he said. "I'm sorry, honey, it's just  
that . . ." He trailed off with an odd look on his face and a catch in his voice.  
  
"That's ok," I choked bitterly. "I'm sure you have more important things to do that save your  
daughter from public humiliation." And I stormed off to my room, where I am now.  
  
What is his problem anyway? I mean, there are only two days a year he notices I'm alive, so why  
can't he make the effort to do something important to me? Gr! He makes me so mad!  
  
Mom is calling us for dinner now, so I guess I have to go. I'll just ignore Dad the rest of the  
night, I guess.  
  
Jennifer Smart (maybe I should just drop the part of my name related to Dad. After all, Mom is a  
Smart and she's terrific.) 


	4. Sunday, October 6, 1985

Sunday, October 6, 1985  
  
I didn't get up early today. The Avengers only plays on Saturday here. In fact, it is almost noon.  
We don't go to church at our house. I've often wondered why. Mom seems to be the type who  
would go to church. Of course, Dad doesn't, and he's the boss of the family even though he's  
never around. Dad said something about God once, but I'm pretty sure he was cursing. Yeah, I'm  
positive . . .  
  
Last night was a real drag for me. After a very tense and quiet dinner, I went to my room and did  
my homework. There goes the geek thing again. Most kids my age would wait until late Sunday  
evening to do their homework, but I only feel rushed when I do that. The homework took forever  
so by the time it was done, I just went to bed.  
  
Zak got up before me today. I think his cell phones started going off or something. Dad says he  
will help him with his project if he has time. Isn't that nice? He won't come and do a simple  
Career Day speech, but he'll help my brother with his stupid science fair entry. Is there no justice  
in this world? I guess I know who the favorite child is. But why should I care? I don't like him  
anyway. I guess it's just natural for a girl to long for the love of a father figure, especially during  
those trying adolescent years. Uh, now where did THAT come from. I think Zak must've said  
something like that once.  
  
I wonder how I'm going to convince Mom that I can't ever leave home again or I will literally  
DIE of embarrassment from the Ritz incident. OK, so maybe, I won't DIE from it, but I will  
certainly suffer as a consequence. Maybe I'll use the old would-you-believe trick, and she'll fall  
for it! Oh, my. I really need to STOP HANGING AROUND DAD! I seriously don't think she'd  
buy it though. I mean, she doesn't when Dad tries to pull it on her. But then, she's heard it from  
him so many times . . .  
  
Oh, yeah. I forgot to mention. Uncle Hymie is coming to visit on Tuesday. All right! He is so  
much fun, even though he acts kinda weird (but then, who do I know that doesn't) If you ask him  
if he wants to hang out, he replies something strange like, "Hang out of what?" I guess he's just a  
square, but that's ok. He's really fun. He'll do anything you want. Isn't he cool? Like once Mom  
was really pissed that I didn't clean my room and Uncle Hymie was there. So I jokingly asked him  
to clean it . . . and he did. Boy was Mom ever shocked. My room was cleaner that day then when  
we moved in! Of course, it didn't last long, but that's another matter. I wonder why Uncle Hymie  
is so obedient. Does he have this humongous guilt complex or something? Maybe Dad saved his  
life once. Ha! Fat chance! Whatever the reason, he sure is nice. I hope he brings us presents again.  
Last time, he brought us this computer! I think Dad actually paid for it though. Oh, well. The  
point is that whenever my uncle comes, we get cool stuff!  
  
I remember when Chief used to visit us before he died in 1982. He was really sweet and nice to  
Zak and me, almost like a grandfather. In fact, he was the closest thing we ever had to a Grandpa  
because Mom and Dad's fathers were both dead before we were born. Sure, he was bald and had  
a tendency to get these really bad headaches, but he was still a good guy. Of course, his visits  
were even rarer than Dad's; I think he only came to our apartment a half a dozen times that I  
could mention. Mom says that when we were really little, he used to come by a lot more, but I  
don't remember that. Dad and him were always talking about the state of the world and how to  
fix it. Most of the time they would agree, but when they didn't, Chief would get a really bad  
headache and have to go. I guess he was a bad loser or something. Whatever. I wonder what  
really happened to him? Was he really murdered in cold blood like the tabloids said? Well, ok, he  
wasn't in the tabloids, but you get the picture. Actually Zak overheard Mom and Dad talking  
about it the day after he died. If I can get him over to the computer, I'll have him repeat what he  
recalls about their conversation. Ah, here he is. Dad had just come home for his semi-annual visit,  
looking sad and depressed.  
  
Mom: Something happened, didn't it?  
  
Dad: What makes you think that, 99?  
  
Mom: You look . . . different, changed somehow. What's wrong?  
  
Dad: Nothing, 9-  
  
Mom: Max, tell me the truth.  
  
Dad: The truth?  
  
Mom: Yes.  
  
Dad: Chief is dead.  
  
Mom *gasps*: Oh, no!  
  
Dad: One of our men found his body in the gutter about 300 miles away. It appears he'd had a  
heart attack.  
  
Mom: In a gutter? What was he doing so far away from Washington?  
  
Dad: Nobody knows. Listen, 99, I don't think we should talk about it now. The chil-  
  
And that's when he noticed Zak was in the room, so they stopped talking. I think that was the  
first time we heard Dad call Mom 99. What does it mean? Is she really nameless? Or is there  
something sinister about our parents that we don't know about? Well, I'm determined to find out,  
no matter the cost.  
  
Well, I need to eat breakfast. Talk to you later.  
  
Maxi Smart 


	5. October 7 and 8, 1985

Monday, October 7, 1985, Before School  
  
Yesterday was pretty boring. Dad took us to walk the Washington Mall, which I've done almost  
every day for my whole life. I usually enjoy it, but not when this short, weird dude with an  
annoying voice is lecturing to us about the importance of national security or something dull like  
that. Who cares about national security? It's not like we can do anything to help it. That's the job  
of the FBI and the CIA and all those creepy people. Spies. I shiver at the word. It gives me a cold,  
clammy feeling in the pit of my stomach to think that there are people out there who follow bad  
people and stop them. I mean, what if they make a mistake and start trailing an innocent person  
like me? Not that I'm totally defenseless or anything. Zak and I both have black belts in karate.  
But still, the very thought of someone watching your every move, albeit harmless, is still very  
disquieting.  
  
I know what you're thinking: If you hate spies so much, why is your favorite show the Avengers?  
Well, that's fantasy, right? It's just made up. None of it really happened and you don't have to  
worry whether the heroes are going to come out of it alive because they always do. With real  
spies, it's different. You could be dead. Do you understand now? Good.   
  
Last night, we took the Metro to Union Station to eat. I love that place. I like the hustle and  
bustle of so many human beings milling around, each with their own itinerary. It kinda gives you  
perspective to think that all those people are individuals with goals and plans for their lives. Wow.  
Also, there are so many different cultural restaurants there. You can have almost ANYTHING  
you want to eat. Zak and I went Indian and Mom and Dad did Greek and ate goat cheese. Yuck.  
Then we went home and I put the final touches on my homework.  
  
That's when Dad told us that he was leaving. Again. What a surprise   
  
Sometimes I wonder about my life. I mean, not that it's incredibly awful or anything. I just  
wonder what I'm here for, why my father hates us so much. Well, maybe he doesn't HATE us, he  
just ignores us a lot. I really think that if he doesn't want to make the family commitment, he  
should divorce Mom and let her find someone who will. I'm saying this right now because Mom's  
in the bedroom crying over Dad's sudden departure. My heart will simply break if she doesn't  
stop. I don't know what's wrong this time. She's never cried when Dad went away before.  
Maybe it's because they didn't have time to make love this weekend. Oh, what a shame.  
  
I know I sound really insensitive, but Mom should've figured out by now that Dad doesn't care  
anything about us. I think I discovered that when I was ten and I realize that almost everyone else  
I knew had a father and saw him at least once a week. Even the divorced kids for crying out loud!  
That's why I wonder if it wouldn't be better if Mom and Dad got a divorce. But I know they  
won't. They are really traditional about things like that. Marriage is sacred and all that rot.  
Besides, as I mentioned before, Mom loves Dad a LOT. And I really mean a LOT. She would die  
an excruciatingly slow and painful death for him and think nothing of it. Talk about a strong love.  
And while I admire that in her, sometimes I think she's being awfully foolish. And it's not like  
Dad is this incredibly intelligent, handsome, witty guy. He's a rock. And not even a young good-  
looking rock. He's a fifty-five-year-old weird-looking rock with beady eyes and thinning hair.  
Wake up, Mom!  
  
Well, I need to get ready for school. I thought I wasn't going to go back there without a fight, but  
now that Mom feels so bad, I'll go willingly, I guess.  
  
Maxine  
  
After School  
  
Guess what? Duh, never mind, you're just a computer. Machines can't guess, so I suppose I'll  
have to tell you. I met this new girl at school, and she's really nice. It appears her dad is away a  
lot just like mine. He works on a cruise ship or something totally cool like that. He's not a boring  
salesman like my dad. Ugh. Well, anyway, she goes by Freda, but that's not her real name. Her  
real name is amazingly long like Frederica or something. I'm really glad that Dad isn't here for  
once. He would freak. Because she's GERMAN. He's really touchy about Germans like I  
mentioned before. I still don't know why. Maybe a German killed Chief! Whoa, that would give  
him a good reason. But he's been like that ever since I remember, which is like WAY before Chief  
died, so I don't know what's up. Maybe he's got a really mean coworker who's German. That  
must be it. I KNOW Chief wasn't German since I met him several times. Well, he didn't have an  
accent at any rate. And his name was Thaddeus. That's more JEWISH than German, even though  
there are German-Jews. Oh, I'm so confused!  
  
Well, anyway, just because that one certain person he dislikes is German doesn't give him the  
right to hate all of them. Isn't that racism or something? And isn't that what Hitler did to people  
who weren't German? So Dad is acting just like the people he despises. Does that make sense?  
No, but since when has Dad made any sense. Don't answer that question. Besides, what's the  
liklihood of Freda being related to Germans he hates? Probably one in a billion. And think of all  
the good Germans there have been! Beethoven, Einstein, the list goes on! So I think Dad needs to  
reevaluate his opinions.  
  
Now that I think of it, I almost wish he could meet Freda so he could see what a nice person she  
is. Sure, she says weird things like "Ach!" and pronounces "th" as "z," but is that any reason to  
hate her?  
  
I gotta go. More tomorrow.  
  
Ach der lieber Maxi (ok, it doesn't make sense, so sue me!)  
  
  
Tuesday, Oktober 8, 1985, After School  
  
He-he! I spelled October like Freda does. I sure hope Dad doesn't read this thing. Of course, my  
sudden fascination with all things German isn't the ONLY reason. I have also said some rather  
nasty things about my father. Not that I regret them, its just that I don't feel like explaining them  
to my indignant paternal parent.  
  
Freda is even nicer than I hoped. We sat together at lunch, apart from the nerd table where my  
brother and I are usually forced to sit by process of elimination. We talked about lots of things,  
but mostly about how our fathers are always off somewhere. I found out that her father is actually  
a DOCTOR on a cruise ship. Is that cool or what? He had to go through all those years of college  
and study, so he must be a very intelligent man. Not like Dad, who went to college (though I  
don't know why. He doesn't use it as a salesman) for only the four years mandatory for a  
bachelor's degree and barely made it through, or so I heard.  
  
Oh, Uncle Hymie's not coming today after all. He got this new job and he's super busy now. That  
makes me sad. I really like my uncle and now he doesn't even have time for me. I'm beginning to  
notice a pattern with the men in my life.  
  
Well, I have a TON of homework, so bye.  
  
Maxine Shmart (That's how Freda says it) 


	6. Wednesday, October 16, 1985

Wednesday, October 16, 1985 Before School  
  
Gosh, has it been that long since I wrote in this thing? Well, needless to say, a lot has happened  
since then. For one thing, I have a STALKER. That's right. This weird dude in a trenchcoat and  
dark glasses keeps following me to school everyday. Creepy. I told Mom about it and she said I  
had been watching too many spy shows. What? No amount of television could ever dream up this  
dude, he is too, too weird. And Zak just thinks he's cool and is contemplating whether he is an  
FBI or CIA agent or maybe a foreign spy. Dweeb. I am really scared. I know it's Halloween, and  
most people love to be frightened at this time of year, but I am not one of them. I've already told  
you my opinion of real life spies. I think I'm going to call Freda to walk with me and Zak to  
school.  
  
Maxi  
  
After School  
  
Freda agreed to walk with us to school. I was so relieved, but I didn't tell Mom just in case she  
had an aversion to Germans as well. I just smiled sweetly and told her we were leaving. Mom  
hugged each of us and we left. At the corner of our street and the next, Freda met us. Let me tell  
you a little bit about her. Freda is very tall with cropped golden-brown hair and bright blue eyes.  
She always wears these army-patterned camouflage clothes like Jo on the Facts of Life and big  
brown combat boots. In other words, she is a major tomboy. She wrestles and plays football with  
the boys after school, and they just consider her one of the guys. Her muscles are amazing. I think  
she must work out. At any rate, she'd be better at protecting me than stupid Zak, even with his  
extensive karate training. Zak is lanky and thin and very weak. So am I. You can see why a girl  
like Freda would come in handy if things ever got rough with my stalker.  
  
Our trip was uneventful until we reached the schoolyard. Then I saw him. I nearly jumped out of  
my skin. He had been right behind us all along, dodging between trees and shadows, so I hadn't  
noticed him until now. This is what happened next:  
  
Freda: Who is zat man?  
  
Me: I don't know. He's been following me to and from school for a week now.  
  
Zak: He's a neo-Nazi, just waiting to wreak havoc on-  
  
Me: Zak! Freda is GERMAN. You don't accuse someone of being a Nazi in front of a German!  
  
Zak: Why not? (He can be so insensitive at times)  
  
Freda: Zat's alright, Shmart, just don't let it happen again. Now I zink we should attack zis veird  
person and put him out of his misery.  
  
Zak: But that could threaten the basis of international security!  
  
Me: Shut up, you dork.  
  
Zak: Sh, he'll hear!  
  
Me: And he won't know you're a dork just by looking at you?  
  
Freda: Shmarts, I have a plan. I zink ve should create our own organization to protect ourselves  
from bullies and shtalkers and such.  
  
Me: Who would be in it?  
  
Freda: Just you, me, and Zak for now, but ve could add people later. Then, ve could set up signals  
to send each other ven ve zink ve are in danger.  
  
Zak: Cool! Just like on tv!  
  
Me: What would we call ourselves?  
  
Freda: The Fourth Reich?  
  
Zak flashed me a Look.  
  
Freda laughed: I vas just joking.  
  
I flashed Zak a Look.  
  
Zak: How about CTRL?  
  
Me: The ticker symbol?  
  
Zak: Maxi, there is no ticker symbol with those letters.  
  
Me: What?  
  
Freda: Vat are you talking about, Shmart?  
  
Me: Our mom and dad are always discussing the stock market and the ticker symbols CTRL and  
KAOS.  
  
Freda: How shtrange. But vat a brilliant idea! Ve could be CTRL and venever we zink ve are in  
danger, ve could send the message: KAOS attack.  
  
Zak: But CTRL is an unpronounceable jumble of letters!  
  
Me: No, dummy. It's the abbreviation of the Control key on a standard computer keyboard. (Hm  
I wonder why I didn't think of that before.)  
  
Zak: CONTROL! I like it.  
  
Freda: Zen zat's vat ve vill be. Let's shake on it. (And we did)  
  
By then, the goofy spy had disappeared. Probably to inform his superiors that we joined with the  
enemy or something stupid like that.  
  
So that's what happened today. We met again at lunch to discuss details. We would have  
meetings in municipal park whenever we felt it necessary. If we wanted to call a meeting, we  
would whisper the codeword "Bogus" as we passed each of the other two members in the hall  
between classes. This is so cool! It almost makes me forget the real reason we had to do this in  
the first place: the nameless stalker.  
  
Well, it's time for homework again. (Groan)  
  
Maxine of CONTROL  
  
A/N: All of the information about Freda is gleaned from information I've read on "Get Smart  
'95." I don't know what Freda's real name is in the show, so I am calling her Freda. That could  
be her correct name, or just a nickname of "Siegfried." That cruise ship doctor bit was also stolen  
from "GS 95." Am I unoriginal or what? Lol 


	7. Thursday, October 17, 1985

Thursday, October 17, 1985 Afternoon  
  
I forgot to say yesterday that the stalker didn't follow the three of us home yesterday. I was so  
relieved. Once again, we came to the street before ours and Freda left our trio. I wonder where  
she lives. I've never bothered to ask. Probably in a HOUSE and not a lousy old flat. I mean, her  
dad is a DOCTOR, for goodness sake! Zak says she lives in a barracks whatever that is. He's  
probably accusing her of being a neo-Nazi again in code. Brothers.  
  
Speaking of which, Zak has locked himself in his room every night for the past week working on  
his science project. Next week is Serendipity Week. That means that we have all kinds of neat  
stuff to do at school and no HOMEWORK! Monday is Drama Day, Tuesday is Music Day,  
Wednesday is Career Day, Thursday is a field trip to the Smithsonian (yay!) And Friday is Science  
Fair Day. How I will live through being at a science fair all day next Friday is beyond me. Of  
course, after Career Day, I'll never be able to hold my head up in school again anyway.  
  
I told Mr. Slacker that my dad hadn't exactly said yes to Career Day, but hadn't said no either.  
(Which is sort of the truth) He was happy enough with that and said not to worry, he would come  
through for me. And then he winked kind of slyly as I left his office. What was that all about?  
Teachers.  
  
Well, this morning, Zak and I met Freda again and walked with her to school. She was busy  
talking about the cruiseline her dad works for when all of a sudden, I spotted our spy! He was  
beginning to look familiar, and not just because he followed me everyday. I had seen him  
somewhere before . . .   
  
Anyway, we ignored him, and he disappeared before we reached the schoolyard. Freda took me  
aside and whispered, "Bogus library hall" before running off to her homeroom. I whispered the  
secret code to Zak, who seemed to have forgotten what it meant, so I had to explain it to him:  
Freda had called a CONTROL meeting in the library during study hall.  
  
At study hall, we met in the back corner of the library, the only spot in the large area that the  
librarian couldn't see. Usually a popular make-out spot, this corner was perfectly suited to our  
purposes.  
  
"I have written ze charter for our organization," Freda whispered, even though it was fairly  
obvious that the librarian couldn't hear us.  
  
Here it is:  
CONTROL Charter  
  
We, people of the greater DC area, in order to form a more perfect alliance against evil, hereby  
establish CONTROL, a protection agency for the innocent against the forces of KAOS. As  
members of this August body, we thereby pledge our loyalty to each other, placing our lives in  
each others hands in the firm hope of salvation should any peril threaten our numbers.  
  
Written this Seventeenth Day of Oktober, Nineteen Hundred and Eighty-Five  
Signed  
"Freda" von Siegfried  
Maxine Eidasix Smart  
Zachary Maxwell Smart  
  
We all signed it as you can plainly see. I was a bit embarrassed letting Freda know my middle  
name, especially since she signed hers with her nickname, but she didn't say anything. What kind  
of a name is Eidasix ( pronounced I-DA-sicks) anyway? Is is French or something? It sounds like  
"86." What is my parents obsession with numbers? By then, it was time to go back to class.  
  
Well, I have a TON of homework again. I think the teachers are trying to make up for the "lost  
week" we will have next week.  
  
Maxine Eidasix (yuck! And you wondered why I hate my name!) Smart 


	8. Monday, October 21, 1985

Monday, October 21, 1985, After school  
  
"Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow Creeps on this petty pace from day to day And  
all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out out, brief candle! Life is but a  
walking shadow. A poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage . . . Signifying  
nothing."  
  
Sorry, I had to get Drama Day out of my system. If I hear another Shakespeare quote I am  
seriously going to vomit. Actually, school was pretty neat . . . as school goes. Freda and Zak  
loved the Shakespeare presentations that we saw in the school auditorium and I adore the sonnets  
that the volunteer parents read to us. Mom was one of them. She read each of her two poems  
with her clear bell-like voice, savoring every word before letting them drip from her mouth like  
honey. Ooh, I'm in a poetic mood today. I got cold chills when she read them: "Shall I compare  
thee to a summer's day" by Shakespeare and "How do I love thee" by Elizabeth Barrett  
Browning. I could tell that she was thinking of my goofy father when she recited them, but that  
didn't subtract from the bliss of the moment. We also had classes on stage makeup, costumes,  
lighting, blocking and many other things. It was a very full day.  
  
There is no homework tonight, so I will probably write several entries before this day is through.  
Mom is in a very lovely mood, she keeps skipping around the house, humming to herself, which  
can only mean one thing: Dad is coming home again. I get a cold, clammy feeling in my stomach  
just thinking about it. Oh, well, I guess this means he'll be able to participate in Career Day after  
all. He probably made advanced arrangements with Mr. Slacker or something. Now I know why  
he winked at me! But why didn't my father bother to inform me? Maybe he wanted it to be a  
surprise. Hooray.Why does my Dad have to be so . . . weird. And stupid! I will never know what  
Mom saw in him. And I still can't get over this weird, weird dream I had about him last night . . .  
  
I dreamt that Dad was a spy- of all things- working for a top secret agency known as P.I.T.S.  
They were trying to foil a KAOS (the evil organization I made up!) Plot to detonate the "Nude  
Bomb," a device that would destroy all clothing on the planet! Dad was acting really crass and  
profane and Mom was nowhere to be seen. Uncle Larabee was trying to develop a way to use  
food as clothing. It was a total nightmare! I'm glad that didn't really happen.*  
  
Well, brother wants me to get off so he can write a paper for his science project. Ha! He has  
homework and I don't!  
  
Maxine  
  
* "The Nude Bomb" was the official name for the 1980 GS reunion movie. The basic plot was  
stolen for Maxine's nightmare. Since most die-hard Smartians agree that the movie was really bad  
(Max was an OOC sex-maniac and 99 was not even in it), I am writing it off as only a dream in  
my story. In my GS universe it DID NOT HAPPEN, understood? Good. 


	9. Tuesday, October 22, 1985

Tuesday, October 22, 1985, Before school  
  
So I didn't fit another entry in yesterday, so sue me! Aaah! Why am I getting angry at a machine?  
I must be feeling some of that inherited stupidity again.  
  
Well, Dad showed up again last night. He's the main reason that I couldn't write in my diary  
again. After dinner, he suggested a Clue tournament, which we were busy at half the night. Dad  
won every game. It was so annoying. He kept making these absurdly wild accusations . . . and  
being right. Lucky guy. Anyway, enough excuses. Now that I'm here, I may as well tell a little  
more about our quality time:  
  
Dad: Why don't we have a Clue tournament?  
  
Zak: Alright! I love Clue.  
  
Me: OK.  
  
2 minutes into the first game.  
  
Dad (as Mr. Green): I've got it! It was Miss Scarlet in the Billiard Room with the Lead Pipe.  
  
Mom passed him a card  
  
Dad: Oh. Well, would you believe . . . the Candlestick? (Obviously, she had disproved his choice  
of weapon)  
  
Zak (Professor Plum) and I (Mrs. Peacock) marked on our scorecards that Mom had the Lead  
Pipe.  
  
Next turn:  
  
Dad: I think it was Miss Scarlet (Mom's pawn. I think he liked dragging her around the board) in  
the Library with the Revolver.  
  
No one was able to prove him wrong.  
  
Dad: Aha! I'm going to make an accusation! It's Colonel Mustard in the Conservatory with the  
Rope.  
  
He looked in the confidential envelope. He was right!  
  
Mom: Oh, Max! You're so clever! How did you figure it out?  
  
Dad: Easy, 99. I HAD the Library, the Revolver, and Miss Scarlet, so by process of elimination . .  
. Gee, 99, how DID I figure that out?  
  
The three of us rolled our eyes. It just wasn't fair! He wasn't even playing the game correctly and  
he won! You aren't supposed to guess the cards you have unless you are trying to bluff someone.  
How infuriating! You can guess the way the remainder of the evening went.  
  
I need to get ready for school.  
  
Mrs. Peacock (aka Maxine)  
After School  
  
"'Tis a gift to be simple, 'tis a gift to be free . . ."  
  
That's right. Today was music day, and we sang, played instruments, and attended a symphony  
right in our own school. Again, better than regular school, but very taxing on the ears . . .  
  
Of course, not as taxing as the sound of Dad practicing his Career Day speech in the other room.  
I think he just said something like: "Friends, students, countrymen, lend me your ears!" Groan.  
Now I'm beginning to wish that he wasn't doing it at all.  
  
Maybe I'm being unfair. Maybe it's because of Freda. Maybe it's because Zak was shoved in his  
locker again today. For whatever reason, I absolutely HATE my Dad right now. I think the most  
likely explanation for my ill mood is that Dad is leaving again after tomorrow and won't be back  
til after Christmas. He doesn't even have the decency to be with his family over the holidays. I  
found this out over breakfast this morning and I haven't spoken to my father since. He says that  
he's trying to jump start his CONTROL stock, but do I believe him? Hell, no! He's probably got a  
girl in every port.   
  
Speaking of ports, Freda's dad won't be coming in from his cruise ship for the holidays either so I  
asked Mom if we could invite her and her mother for Thanksgiving. Of course, I didn't tell her  
Freda's full name, and she agreed. I didn't want to take the chance that she'd tell Dad we were  
having GERMANS over for Thanksgiving and have him wreck the whole thing. I only hope she  
won't be angry with me when she finds out.  
  
Well, I need all the rest I can get before the big day tomorrow.  
  
Maxi (I-Wish-I-Wasn't) Smart 


	10. Wednesday, October 23, 1985

Wednesday, October 23  
After School  
  
Well, it's over. The world has ended. That's right. The fifty-five-year old rock actually ruined my life.  
  
It's true, the day didn't start out so bad. My first pick for Career Day was the lawyer they had speaking since my mom's so interested in politics and justice and all that. He was pretty boring, and I found it nearly impossible to stay awake during his lecture much less follow what he was saying. Next was a librarian, since I'm really into books and reading. That was slightly better, but it was a lot of stuff about Dew E. Decimal or whatever his name is and that number system he invented to catalogue books. After that, came a nurse. That was very educational. I think it was the best so far. And then came Dad. Zak and I had both signed up for his class during the same time period so that we could "face the music" together. We entered the classroom that he had set up in with a feeling of more than slight trepidation. What would my idiot father do to embarrass us today? I wondered in a half-expectant and half-dreading way.   
  
The class was not very good, unsurprisingly. Here is the sparse notes I was able to glean from my father's nervous babbling.  
  
Wlcme to ths cls. I am grting crd wrtr. Gcw's are hrd wrking indiv who wrt gc's. It cn tk a lng tm to wrt a gc or not a lng tme. It can be easy or not easy. It can be fun or not fun. But mst of all it is wrk. Wrk is a gd thng. It mks you strng and brv. Gcw's are also ths thngs. Whn thy wrt a crd thy nd ptnce and intlgnce. Thy can mk thngs rhm or not. Sppy or not. Fnny or not. But mst of all sllble. Crds nd to be sllble.  
  
Translation and my comments:  
  
Welcome to this class. I am greeting card writer. (Duh!) Greeting card writers are hard working individuals who write greeting cards. (That's a stroke of genius, Dad.) It can take a long time to write a greeting card or not a long time. It can be easy or not easy. It can be fun (Don't tell me . . .) or not fun (I asked you not to tell me that!). But most of all it is work. Work is a good thing. (This coming from a man who does nothing but.) It makes you strong and brave. (And you're proof of that. NOT!) Greeting card writers are also these things. When they write a card they need patience and intelligence. (How DID you keep your job all these years?) Thy can make things rhyme or not. Sappy or not. Funny or not. But most of all sellable. Cards need to be sellable. (And yours are?)  
  
I told you it was bad. I think everyone in the room was snoring or sniggering by the time Zak and I got out of there, so it was no surprise when halfway to his next class (lunch), two bullies, who had just sat through my Dad's insipid lecture for the express purpose of tormenting him, jumped him.   
  
"Stop it!" I yelled as they punched him right and left, pushing him ever nearer to his locker. "I know martial arts!" But I could only fight one person at a time and there were two great hulks beating my brother to a pulp. Zak smiled weakly at me and was about to resign himself to another missed lunch in his locker when who should show up but Dad. Oh great. I thought. Just what that loser needs is to know his son's a freaking weakling. Another fine excuse for him to stay away from home. But Dad walked right by those jerks as if he didn't even see them, which to my mind was worse than what I expected him to do: yell at Zak to "fight like a man." He was probably so embarrassed with his boy that he just ignored him, I thought. Boy, was I wrong. My father actually DIDN'T SEE my brother's struggle until he cried in anguish, "Dad!" Dad turned around in confusion, obviously not sure if he was the one being called. The hall was crowded with fathers and their children who were about to go eat lunch together in the cafeteria. He was about to continue his walking when Zak sputtered, "Mr. Smart."  
  
Dad turned to look once more, but one of the evil bullies yelled. "Yeah, Mr. Smart, Mr. Zachary Smart, we've been looking for you everywhere." He gave Zak's hair a playful tussle as if the two were best of buddies. Dad saw his son "playing" with his friends and assumed that the call had been for him. I cringed with shame. These bullies had the upper hand on my poor brother and my stupid father had been tricked into believing he was all right. If I called out "Mr. Smart!" again, Dad wouldn't pay the slightest bit of attention. Somehow, yelling my Dad's Christian name didn't seem right either. I was about to give up and watch my brother being shoved into his locker when I was inspired. Using my most Mom-like voice, I shouted, "86, help!"  
  
It worked like a charm, Dad turned around and rushed back to our side in a flash. "99, where are you?" he entreated, desperately searching the crowd for our mother.  
  
"No, it's me, Dad," I said tugging on his sleeve. He turned to look at me, a flash of bewilderment on his face.  
  
"You're not 99!" he exclaimed in surprise. "You're 491/2!"  
  
I cringed at his pet name for me, but was overjoyed to note that our number talk had so completely confused our adversaries that Zak broke away from them and karate chopped them but good across the back of the necks. They slumped to the ground and the three of us looked at each other in horror as the realization of what had just occurred set in.  
  
"Let's just quietly slip away to lunch," suggested my brother. "When they revive and if they tell the principal that I slugged them, he'll never believe it." He grinned the first true grin he had in a long time.  
  
Dad seemed slightly wary of this plan of action, but he quickly agreed and we hurried to the cafeteria. "Why wouldn't they believe it?" he asked in surprise.  
  
"Are you kidding? I'm the dweebiest wuss of the century around here!" Zak explained happily.  
  
"I won't have you saying such things of yourself, 43," said Dad kindly. "You're a Smart, and don't you ever forget that."  
  
"Will you let us?" I replied cheekily as we got in the lunch line. "And Dad, I've always wondered, what's with the numbers?"  
  
A look of near panic swept across my father's face but quickly passed. "Why, because you're both chips off the old block! 43 is half of 86, and 491/2 is half of 99."  
  
"But where did 99 and 86 come from?" I wanted to know.   
  
Of course, just at that moment, Freda came up to us. I motioned for her to keep quiet, but she didn't seem to hear me. "Hello, you must be Mr. Schmart," she began, offering her hand to my father. At that moment, I wanted to shrivel up and die.  
  
"What did you say?" asked Dad, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.  
  
Fortunately, Freda didn't seem in the least bit offended. "I asked if your name vas Schmart," she repeated complacently.  
  
"Siegfried!" cried my father. I'm not sure, but I think he might've been shaking a little as he said it.  
  
"Ja, that's my name, but how did you know?" Freda's blue eyes were full of complete and utter perplexity.  
  
"You mean he has a- Oh, my sweet shoe-phone!" murmured Dad.  
  
At this moment, I was sure that my father had lost all his marbles. What the heck is a shoe-phone? He must have meant cell-phone, I tried to console myself, but I was already convinced that he was way off his rocker.   
  
Just as I was wondering these things, Dad grabbed me by the shoulders and whispered, "Whatever you do, stay away from that-that girl at all costs!"  
  
"But Dad," I protested, "she's my friend!"  
  
"Friend!" yelled Dad. "Friend? Do you know who she is? Her father-"  
  
"Her father is a doctor on a cruise ship! You must be confused with someone else!" By now, my face was beet-red and the entire school was staring at us.  
  
But my father didn't seem to care. "Her father is a killer!" Then, he hesitated and continued, "albeit a nice killer, but that's beside the point." He seemed to be reminiscing about the times they had shared together. Then, overcome by emotions and memories, my dad ran out of the school and disappeared.  
  
Now, six hours later, I am locked in my room, pouring my soul out on my computer between tears. My mom is silently contemplating the lies I told her when we got home from school in her own room and my brother is boarded up in his, buried in his science experiment that is due in two days. I don't see why he bothers. I expect we'll all be shipped to the funny farm long before then. I hear a doorknob being turned downstairs and my heart freezes in my chest. Footsteps hurry down the stairs and the sounds of, "Oh, Max, you're here!" greet my not welcoming ears. Now my name and Zak's are being called. I will tell you what happens later if I'm not already in a straitjacket by then. 


End file.
